


how you and i will be

by katewritessometimes



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Based on a song, Gen, He's Babey, I don't know what else to tag this, It's been almost a month y'all, Parenthood, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Song: Lullabye (Goodnight My Angel) Billy Joel, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Has Daddy Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-05-22
Packaged: 2020-03-09 15:52:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18920194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katewritessometimes/pseuds/katewritessometimes
Summary: a snapshot of a life by a lake after the snap





	how you and i will be

**Author's Note:**

> look i know lullabye (goodnight my angel) came out in 1993 but the song is just perfect for morgan and tony so i'm ignoring that sorry billy joel i love you dude

In upstate New York, there's a large house, sitting on the edge of a lake. It's a quiet summer night at this house by a lake, the sky remaining the dark, inky blue that only summer nights can. Crickets chirp as stars twinkle in the sky above, the wind slowly pushing the tire swing hung from the thick bow of a weeping willow. The quiet of a midsummer night is suddenly shattered by the soft cries of an infant drifting through the open window of the attic nursery.

Tony Stark, in a half-slumber next to his wife, is immediately pulled from this state as the gentle cries reach his ears. He shushes Pepper before she can get up herself, pressing a kiss to her cheek with a murmured, "You handled this for nine months straight. Let me get nights."

There’s minimal resistance from a very reasonably exhausted Pepper, a soft smile gracing Tony’s lips as the woman he adores so much sighs and rolls into the spot he’s just vacated on the bed to bury her face in his pillow. Then a cry is heard again and the smile falls slightly, the sound of his girl’s cries hurting his chest more than any shrapnel ever had. His girl. How lucky was he?

Fatherhood was in no way, shape, or form something that Tony desired until the morning Pepper had emerged from their bathroom with that fateful double striped stick in her hand. Even then, his joy was like molasses — sickly sweet yet dark, sticky, heavy, weighing on his shoulders like Atlas’s globe. Howard had hardly been a good father to him, how is Tony now supposed to be a good father to Morgan? So nine months were spent preparing an already too-safe house for a baby because he might not know how to do the whole dad thing but one thing Tony is damn good at is protecting the ones he loves. Even if they don’t care. Even if they only bother with him when they need something. Even if his attempts fail and they die.

Tony shakes those thoughts out of his head, thoughts of Steve, of Peter. There’s no point in lingering on that now, not when he’s climbing up the attic stairs and scooping his little bundle of joy into his arms. This is his future, right here. The past doesn’t matter anymore. It shouldn’t, at least.

“Hey, Moo,” he murmurs softly, cradling the two-month-old in his arms. She’s always been a fussy one, but he doesn’t mind. It’s just more time he can spend with her. Careful not to bump or jostle her in any way, Tony reaches down to the mini fridge they’d put in the room and grabs a bottle to heat up in the bottle warmer on the nightstand.

He walks to the large bay window with the still gently crying baby in his arms, lifting the arm of a soft blue record player and putting down the needle to play a soft lullaby. This was the ritual — music and a bottle to lull sweet Morgy Moo back to sleep.

 _Oh, a new record,_ Tony thinks as the music begins to play, gentle piano chords chiming out in the air as he reaches over and grabs the bottle. As he settles down in the large rocking chair by the cracked-open windows, Tony gives her the bottle, rocking back and forth and humming to the melody that’s somehow one he knows already.

It’s a familiar song, one his mother used to sing to him back when he was a kid, with scraped knees and bruised feelings. He hasn’t heard it since… hell, he can’t remember the last time he heard this song.

_Goodnight, my angel, time to close your eyes and save these questions for another day. I think I know what you’ve been asking me. I think you know what I’ve been trying to say. I promised I would never leave you and you should always know: wherever you may go, no matter where you are, I never will be far away._

Tony gently sings as the melody washes over them, Morgan making quick work of the bottle he’s feeding her. A hungry little thing, she is, and Tony is suddenly hit with another enormous wave of love for her. It’s like a never-ending tsunami, his love for this tiny little creature in his arms who’s currently snuffling her little nose into his chest. He adores her so very much, with his entire soul, and the weight of it is nearly crushing.

Pepper and Tony love her enough to fill the world ten times over at the very least, but his chest tightens as he thinks about the ashes of the boy he promised he would never leave still up there on Titan. The thought of what could have happened, the way things could have gone that day, still weighs on him heavily. Morgan should have Peter, should have people surrounding her and giving her the love she deserves.

After a hard blink and swallow, Tony is carefully burping Morgan, the words his mother sang to him all those years ago churning in his brain and the pit of his stomach. It hurts. It all hurts so fucking much, but here is his hope, his future, his angel in his arms.

_Good night, my angel. Now it’s time to sleep and still so many things I want to say. Remember all the songs you sang for me when we went sailing on an emerald bay. And like a boat out on the ocean, I’m rocking you to sleep. The water’s dark and deep inside this ancient heart. You’ll always be a part of me._

It’s taking everything Tony has to keep rocking, keep focusing on the infant in his arms and not the immense pain those words are causing him. Everything he does is for her, for Pepper, for the family he finally has after a lifetime of pain. As much as he adores her, as much as her tiny fist wrapping around his pointer finger fills him with a joy unlike that he’s ever known, the pain still lingers, burns hot and angry in his chest and stomach. All he wants is to protect her from the world but what good is he at that?

Morgan parts her little mouth in a squeak of a yawn and Tony is drawn from those dark thoughts, a small smile coming to his lips as the lyrics settle in his bones. He failed Peter but he won’t, can’t fail Morgan too so he sets aside the bottle, patting her tiny back over his shoulder until she burps before nestling her in his arms once more.

It’s another few moments until his little girl is asleep in his arms and he can’t move, he can’t stop staring at her tiny, perfect features. How did a man so broken, so flawed, create a being so purely good? Tony doesn’t know, can’t fathom it, but he knows he is so immensely lucky to have his little family. If it weren’t for them, he would be dead.

He does have them, though, and he is alive, living a life he never pictured for himself but one he is so grateful for all the same. That day on Titan followed by those weeks in space had truly felt like the end but here he is, sitting in a mahogany rocking chair with his daughter in his arms as his wife sleeps a floor below them in the farmhouse by the lake they’ve made their home.

Despite the pain that lingers, the weight of failure still pressing heavy on his chest, this is the closest thing to peace Tony has ever known and he sits, holding his sleeping babe until the sun rises over the horizon.

_Goodnight, my angel. Now it’s time to dream and dream how wonderful your life will be. Someday your child will cry and if you sing this lullaby then in your heart there will always be a part of me._

It’s once again a quiet midsummer night at this house by the lake. The soft cries of an infant drift through the open windows over the serene lake, waking up a half-asleep parent as if they were waiting for the noise to wake them in the first place.

This time the wife awakens, leaning over and kissing her husband’s cheek before slipping out of bed and making her way up the stairs to the familiar attic nursery turned child’s room turned nursery once more.

“Anthony Peter, you couldn’t have been hungry when I was up here half an hour ago?” Morgan Stark tuts softly, her long brown curls falling down her back as she leans over to lift her son from the crib that was once hers. She moves to the mahogany rocking chair by the large bay window, putting the needle down on the now horribly beat up record as she settles down to feed her baby boy.

The memories Morgan has of her father are few and far between. She was hardly five when he died. Sitting in that rocking chair by the bay window, the soft sounds of her lullaby flooding her brain, she feels closer to him than she has in a long time. The sound of his voice fills her head over the sound of the record, a tear slipping down her cheek as she feeds her son. Twenty years without her father yet in moments like these, she can feel him wiping away her tears and pressing a kiss to her forehead with a whispered, “Love you three thousand, Moo.”

_Someday we’ll all be gone but lullabies go on and on. They never die. That’s how you and I will be._

The melody slowly trails off as her Anthony finishes nursing and dozes back off to sleep, his finger tightly gripping her forefinger. Careful not to wake him once more, Morgan stands up from the rocking chair, going back to the crib and gently settling him back down. A finger strokes down his cheek before she walks back to the large bay window, looking up to talk to the stars where her mom always said her dad would be waiting for and watching over them.

“Love you three-thousand, Dad.”


End file.
